Adultery Mom and the boss

[Lousy1995]

Part-2 : The Watching

Three days passed. Three days of me acting normal while everything inside me was churning like a mixer grinder.

I would wake up at five for my morning run, but instead of going to MCC ground, I would sit on the pabangt wall near the water tank on the terrace and smoke cigarettes I bought from the corner shop. I needed to think. My mind was not staying still.

My mother was behaving different. Not in obvious ways that anyone else would notice, but in small ways that only someone living with her everyday would catch.

She was taking more care with her dressing. Even for office, she was wearing her better sarees. The silk-cotton ones with the nice borders. She was putting kajal more carefully. And her phone—her phone was never leaving her hand. Even when she went to bathroom, she was taking it.

Also, she was smiling for no reason. Standing in front of the mirror and smiling to herself like a fool. Sometimes I would catch her typing on WhatsApp with both thumbs fast-fast, and when I would enter the room, she would quickly switch to some other app or put the phone down.

My father called from Singapore on Thursday night. They spoke for ten minutes. I watched her face during the call. No excitement, no longing. Just "Yes, okay, take care, bye" in that flat voice. After hanging up, she immediately picked up her phone and started typing again. Her face became alive again.

That Friday, I made my plan.

I told her Thursday night that I was going to Bangalore for the weekend. There was an athletics coaching camp there, I said. I would leave Friday morning and come back Sunday night. She didn't suspect anything. Why would she? I had gone for camps before.

"Take care, beta," she said, packing my bag with idlis and chutney for the journey. "Call me when you reach."

Friday morning, I left the house at seven with my bag. I took the bus to Chennai Central, walked around the platform for ten minutes, then took a local train back to Valasaravakkam. By nine-thirty, I was sitting in the tea shop opposite our apartment building, wearing a cap and sunglasses, reading a newspaper like a detective in some cheap thriller movie.

I waited.

At eleven, her office cab dropped her home. She was wearing a cream and maroon saree, hair open, looking fresh. She went inside. I waited more.

At twelve-thirty, a silver Honda City entered the gate. Rajesh. He was wearing sunglasses and a blue shirt. He parked and went inside. The watchman didn't stop him. He was coming regularly now, I realized. The watchman knew him.

My heart was beating fast. I left the tea shop and went to the back of the building. There was a service stairs that led to the back of our apartment. I had been entering that way since childhood when I would lock myself out. I climbed quietly.

Our apartment has a small gap in the bathroom window that faces the service corridor. Old buildings have these things. I had never thought of using it before. But now, I positioned myself there, standing on an old paint bucket I found in the corridor.

I could hear them before I could see them.

"Rajesh, no, not today, Varun just left, what if he comes back?" My mother's voice. Scared but also excited.

"He won't come back, Anuja. You said he's in Bangalore. Stop worrying." His voice was deep, confident. "I missed you. Whole week I was waiting for this."

"Rajesh... the door..."

"I locked it. Come here."

I peeped through the gap. The angle was limited but I could see the bedroom. My parents' bedroom. The bed with the old wooden headboard. The ceiling fan spinning slow.

My mother was standing near the dressing table. Rajesh came up behind her. He was tall, much taller than her. He put his hands on her shoulders. She didn't move away. She was looking at him in the mirror.

"You look beautiful today," he said. His hands moved down from her shoulders to her arms. "This saree... I like this color on you."

"Rajesh, we shouldn't... what if someone..."

"No one will know. Your son is gone. Your husband is in Singapore. We have three hours."

His hands moved to her waist. I could see his fingers pressing into her soft flesh. My mother's eyes closed. Her head fell back against his chest. She was surrendering. I could see it in her posture. All that hesitation was drama. She wanted this.

He turned her around to face him. His hand went to her face, cupping her cheek. Then he kissed her. Not a small peck. A full, deep kiss. His mouth covering hers, his other hand going behind her head to hold her.

My mother kissed him back. Her hands went up to his shoulders, holding him. I could see their mouths moving, their heads tilting. It was not like in movies. It was messy, real. I could hear the wet sounds even from where I was standing.

After what felt like forever, he broke the kiss. My mother was breathing hard. Her chest was heaving. The pallu of her saree had fallen from her shoulder.

"Bedroom," Rajesh said. It was not a question.

He took her hand and pulled her. They moved out of my line of sight, toward the bed. I shifted position, trying to see better. The gap was small, only about two inches wide. But I could see the bed now.

He pushed her onto the bed. She fell back, her legs hanging off the edge. He stood between her legs, looking down at her like she was a plate of biryani he was about to eat.

"You know what I like about you, Anuja?" he said, starting to unbutton his shirt. "You're real. Not like these gym girls with bones sticking out. You have flesh. You have curves."

"Rajesh... don't talk like that..." she said, but she was not stopping him. She was watching him undress.

He removed his shirt. He was hairy. Grey hair on his chest, on his stomach. But he had muscles. Not gym muscles, but strong arms, broad chest. He was a man who had money and time to take care of himself.

He climbed onto the bed, kneeling between her legs. He started unwrapping her saree. He was doing it slowly, taking his time. First the pallu, then the pleats. He threw them on the floor one by one.

My mother was lying there in her blouse and petticoat. The blouse was cream colored, matching the saree. It was tight. I could see her cleavage heaving. She was looking up at him with a mixture of fear and desire.

"Sit up," he commanded.

She sat up. He reached behind her and started undoing the hooks of her blouse. There were many hooks. He was taking time. My mother was impatient. She tried to help him.

"No," he said, slapping her hands away gently. "Let me do it. I like unwrapping my gift."

Finally, the blouse was open. He pulled it off her shoulders. Then he reached behind again and unhooked her bra.

This was the first time I was seeing my mother like this. Not as mother, but as a woman. As a sexual being.

Her breasts fell out when he removed the bra. They were huge. Heavy, full, pendulous. Like ripe watermelons. They sagged slightly with age and weight, but they were beautiful. Dark nipples, big areolas. He cupped them with both hands, lifting them, weighing them.

"Perfect," he said. "Absolutely perfect."

He lowered his head and took one nipple in his mouth. My mother gasped. Her hands went to his head, holding him there. He was sucking hard, pulling at her breast with his mouth. Her head fell back, her mouth open. She was making sounds—small, whimpering sounds like a kitten.

"Rajesh... ah... slowly..."

He didn't listen. He was hungry. He switched to the other breast, giving it the same treatment. His hands were squeezing, kneading her flesh. I could see his fingers sinking into her soft skin.

After some time, he pushed her back down. He caught hold of her petticoat string and pulled. It came undone. He pulled it down her legs and threw it aside.

Now she was only in her panty. White cotton panty. Simple, practical. Not sexy lingerie. That made it more erotic somehow. The contrast between her heavy, mature body and that plain underwear.

Rajesh stood up and removed his trousers. He was wearing black briefs underneath. There was a huge bulge there. He pulled down the briefs and his cock sprang out.

It was big. Thick, dark, veined. Bigger than anything I had seen in porn. He was fully erect, the head swollen and purple. He was circumcised, clean looking.

My mother's eyes went wide when she saw it. "Rajesh... it's..."

"You can take it," he said, climbing back onto the bed. "You've been taking it for two months now. Open your legs."

He pulled her panty down. She lifted her hips to help him. Then she was naked. Completely naked in front of him.

I could see everything. Her heavy breasts spread on her chest. Her soft stomach with the stretch marks from my birth. Her wide hips. And between her legs, a thick bush of black hair. She was old-fashioned. Not shaved, not trimmed. Natural.

Rajesh positioned himself between her thighs. He took his cock in his hand and rubbed it against her pussy. She moaned loudly.

"Please... Rajesh... put it..."

"Beg me," he said, teasing her. "Say please properly."

"Please... I want it... I need it..."

He pushed in. Just the head first. My mother cried out. Her hands gripped the bedsheet. He pushed more, slowly, inch by inch. She was wet—I could see the shine on his cock—but she was also tight. He had to work to get inside.

"So tight," he grunted. "Even after all these times. Your husband doesn't use you properly, does he?"

"No... never... only you..."

He started moving. Slow strokes at first, pulling out halfway then pushing back in. The bed was creaking. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room. My mother's breasts were bouncing with each thrust.

"Faster," she begged. "Please... faster..."

He increased his speed. Now he was pounding her. The bed was hitting the wall. Thump-thump-thump. If any neighbor was home, they would hear. But it was afternoon. Everyone was at work.

My mother was going crazy. She was thrashing her head, her hair flying. Her hands were gripping his back, her nails digging in. She was making loud noises now, not caring about anything.

"Rajesh! Ah! Rajesh! Yes! There! Right there!"

He was sweating. His back was glistening. He grabbed her legs and pushed them up, folding her. Now he was hitting deeper. My mother screamed.

"Oh god! Oh god! I'm coming! I'm coming!"

Her whole body convulsed. Her back arched, her breasts thrust up. She was shaking like a leaf in wind. Her face was contorted in pleasure-pain. She kept moaning, long drawn-out sounds.

He didn't stop. He kept fucking her through her orgasm. When she finished shaking, he pulled out.

"Turn around," he ordered. "On your knees. I want to see that ass."

My mother turned. She got on her hands and knees. Her ass was facing him. It was huge, round, fleshy. The kind of ass that makes men stupid. It was rippling slightly as she positioned herself.

Rajesh grabbed her hips and entered her from behind. One hard thrust and he was fully inside.

"Ah!" My mother cried out. "Too deep!"

"Take it," he said, and started fucking her hard.

This position was different. He was going deeper, hitting spots that made my mother claw at the bedsheet. Her breasts were hanging down, swinging with each thrust. Her hair was covering her face.

He was slapping her ass now. Hard slaps that left red handprints on her soft flesh.

"Who owns this?" he asked, slapping again.

"You! You own it!"

"Say my name."

"Rajesh! Rajesh owns me!"

"Good girl."

He increased his speed. He was like a machine now, pounding into her. The sound of their bodies colliding was loud. Slap-slap-slap. Mixed with her moans and his grunts.

"I'm close," he said. "Where do you want it?"

"Inside! Please! Inside me!"

He groaned loudly and pushed deep, holding himself there. I could see his ass cheeks clenching. He was releasing inside her. Filling her with his seed. My mother was moaning, feeling him pulse inside her.

They stayed like that for a minute, both breathing hard. Then he pulled out. His cock was still half-hard, covered in their juices. My mother collapsed on the bed, face down. She was sweating all over, her body glistening.

Rajesh lay down beside her. He started playing with her breasts again, casually, like they were his property.

"Next week," he said, "we'll go to that lodge in Mahabalipuram. Full day. No hurry."

"Mm," my mother said, her eyes closed, smiling like a satisfied cat. "But what about Varun?"

"I'll think of something. Or we'll go during office hours. You're my HR manager, remember? Official work."

She laughed. A happy, carefree laugh I had not heard in years. "You're bad, Rajesh."

"And you love it."

They lay there for some time, talking softly. I couldn't hear everything. But I heard enough. Plans for next meetings. Promises of gifts. He was buying her a gold chain. She was worried about getting pregnant. He said he would take care of it, he knew a doctor.

After half an hour, they got up. I moved away from the window and hid behind the water tank. I heard them in the bathroom, showering together. Laughing. Splashing water.

Then they dressed and left. Together. His car was gone when I looked from the terrace.

I stayed there for one hour more. I couldn't move. My legs were shaking. I had a hard-on that was painful. I was confused, angry, excited, disgusted—all together.

My mother was not just having an affair. She was a different person with him. A sexual woman who begged, who moaned, who took a man's cock and screamed for more. The mother who made me idlis and worried about my knee pain—that was just one side of her.

There was another Anuja. A woman who liked being dominated, who liked rough sex, who liked a man's hands slapping her ass and claiming her.

And I had seen it. I had seen everything.

I went home at four in the afternoon. The house smelled of sex and perfume. The bed was made, but I could see the wrinkles. I went to my room and lay down.

My phone rang. It was my mother.

"Beta, where are you? Did you reach Bangalore?"

"Yes, Ma," I said, my voice steady. "Just reached. The journey was fine."

"Take care. Don't strain your knee."

"I won't, Ma."

"Love you, beta."

"Love you too, Ma."

I hung up and stared at the ceiling. She had just been fucked senseless two hours ago, and now she was telling me not to strain my knee. The double life. The lying. It was so easy for her.

But I knew now. I knew the truth. And I knew I couldn't stop watching.

The storage room was just the beginning. The bedroom was just the second chapter. There would be more. The lodge in Mahabalipuram. The office trips. The backseat of his car.

I would find ways to watch. I had to. The door was fully open now, and I was walking through it. Not to save her. Not to stop her.

To watch. To see more. To understand what my mother really was.

And maybe, just maybe, to find out if I could find a woman who would look at me the way she looked at him. Like I was the only thing that mattered in the world.

[End of Part Two]